For half a mile the road led through the “mounds,” – small hills, which are very frequent in this part of Arkansas, principally on low ground. There can be no doubt but that they have been formed by the hand of man, as they are in regular rows, from twenty to forty yards apart, six or seven feet high, and about twelve feet in diameter. The one in the middle of a row is always of an oval form, while the others are round. There are sometimes from twelve to twenty rows, with from ten to twenty and twenty-five mounds in a row, all at regular distances. I have spoken with several Americans who had dug into them, in the hope of discovering treasures; but they only found broken pottery, burnt wood, and now and then a bone. They are situated in the most fertile soil of the State, and the Indians know nothing about them.
At length the swamps were behind us. We crossed a small prairie, passed an old buffalo salt-lick, and arrived at Slowtrap’s dwelling, planted on a spur of the hills which ran out into the plains. It was in no way different from the usual log-houses: sixteen feet square, from nine to ten high, with an enormous fireplace, no window, and a weighted roof; close by was a field of about seven acres, planted with maize. His wife and children stood at the door as we arrived, and although I knew that they were much attached to each other, and lived happily together, and he had been about three weeks absent, not the least word was exchanged that could be construed into a greeting. “Take my saddle in,” said S. to his eldest son, a boy of eight years old, who was leaning on the fence, looking at us as if we were perfect strangers, in whom he had no concern. At last, when the horse was cared for, and all things in their places, S. went into the house, took a seat, and lifted his youngest child into his lap; – and then he said, “How do you do, all of you?” This distant reserve of the Americans, so prevalent even in their own families, often struck cold on my heart, and made me regret my native land. Man and wife are often as reserved towards each other as two strangers who meet for the first time, and care not about meeting again. I have seen Americans leave home to be absent for months, without shaking hands with their wives, or saying “Good-by,” and it is the same on their return. I must believe, for the honor of the Americans, that this reserve is mere custom, and does not proceed from any real want of affection, as I have seen proofs of deep feeling amongst them, but it always made a disagreeable impression on me. But still worse was it to see Germans aping this fashion, as often happened to be my lot.
When quietly seated, I took a survey of the dwelling. In two corners stood two large beds, covered with good stout quilts of many colors; between the beds, about four feet from the ground, was a shelf holding a few more quilts, and the linen of the family, which was not over-abundant, comprising three or four articles for each person. Under this shelf were two “gums,” trunks of a hollow tree, about a foot in diameter, and two and a half or three feet high, with a piece of board nailed on the bottom. They are applied to all sorts of purposes: I have seen them used as beehives; these, I subsequently found, were one for flour and the other for salt. Two wooden hooks over the door supported my host’s long rifle, with its powder-horn and shot-pouch. A shelf held some shoemaker’s tools, leather, &c., Gun’s Domestic Medicine, a family Bible, the Life of Washington, the Life of Marion, Franklin’s Maxims, an almanac, and a well-worn map of the United States. Various files, awls, broken knives, and a bullet-mould, were stuck into the crevices of the logs near the fireplace. On the left of it were two short shelves, with four plates, two cups, three saucers, some tin pots, and a large coffee-pot, all as bright and clean as possible. In the corner of the fireplace was an iron pan with a cover, for baking bread, and two saucepans, one broken. Several joints of smoked meat hung from the roof, surrounded by strips of dried pumpkin suspended on poles.
The above-named boy, a girl of ten, a blue-eyed, flaxen-haired, rosy-cheeked girl of four, diligently munching a bunch of wild grapes, and the little one on my friend’s lap, formed the family; they all looked shyly at me, though they had seen me six months before, so that I was not quite a stranger to them.
We had agreed to set off for the mountains at once – but S. found some business to detain him at home, so it was put off till the next week, and I amused myself in the mean time as well as I could; and as I was acquainted with the country, I took my rifle, and paid a few visits to old acquaintances, returning to Slowtrap’s on the 12th December, partly on account of the cold wet weather, and partly to mend my moccasins, which had suffered severely from the sharp stones of these mountains. Slowtrap happened to be mending a pair of shoes at the same time. It is a general practice with the backwoodsmen to make their own shoes, and a regular shoemaker is a scarce article in this part of the world. As they are thrown on their own resources from their youth, these Americans are very skilful in providing for their necessary wants, and are particularly expert with the axe, which they begin to wield as soon as their arms are strong enough to lift it. They use it for a variety of purposes – building houses, laying roofs and floors, forming the chimneys and doors, the only other tool used being an auger; and nothing amuses them more than to see the awkwardness of a new comer, when first he handles an axe. Besides making their own shoes, they understand enough of tanning to prepare the leather; they make their own ploughs, dig wells, &c.; for all which operations Europeans require so many different workmen.
As we sat together before the fire, there was no difficulty in getting Slowtrap to relate some of his adventures with the Indians in his early days. In the evening we brought in some pumpkins, and as we cut them into thin rings to hang on the poles to dry he began to speak in the following words of the perils he had been exposed to in Kentucky, and his narrow escapes from the Indians: “Kentucky was at that time a wilderness, when my father, my uncle, and myself arrived near the dwelling of Daniel Boone, to look about for a spot that would suit us; for North Carolina, where we then lived, began to be too populous, and a man who wanted to shoot a turkey or partridge was tired before he had walked half an hour, from the number of fences he was obliged to climb over. I was then just eighteen, as strong as a four-year-old bear, and was delighted at the thought of meeting the Indians. It was about this time of the year, and the game we saw made our hearts bound: numbers of bears, deer, and buffaloes; while the turkeys would hardly get out of our way. It would tire you to tell you of all the sport we had, for no country in the world could boast of more game than Kentucky thirty years ago; but now it is no better there than it was then in North Carolina, and five years hence, a man who wants to shoot a bear in Arkansas, will have many a weary mile to tramp. One evening we arrived at the edge of a cane-brake, and as there was good feeding for the horses, we resolved to pass the night there. We hobbled the forelegs of the horses with some bark of the papao tree, and hung a bell round the neck of my uncle’s mare. Yet, not being sure of escaping the vigilance of the Indians, we kept watch by turns. Nothing suspicious occurred till about midnight, when the sound of the bell ceased, which I, having the watch at the time, thought rather extraordinary, as the horses were not in the habit of lying down till morning. The dogs also were restless, particularly a greyheaded bear-hound, who gave a howl when the wind came from the quarter where the horses had been left. I did not wake the two seniors, but I passed an anxious night. Towards morning I heard the bell again, but further off, and more to the right. My father woke about daybreak, and I told him what had disquieted me. It seemed rather suspicious to him also, but he thought the horses might perhaps have strayed a little in search of fresh reeds. As soon as it was broad daylight, he took his bridle and rifle, and went with ‘Watch,’ the old dog, towards the sound of the bell, to bring back the horses. My uncle woke in the mean time. We had set a delicate morsel to broil. I was catching the dripping from some roasting bear’s meat, in a piece of hollow bark, to baste the turkey, when my father came back without the horses, and said he had found infallible traces of Indians near our camp. My uncle wished to examine the marks; so we shouldered our rifles, and proceeded to the place where the horses had been feeding the evening before. In one rather moist place there was a very clear impression of a moccasin, and one of the savages had inconsiderately stepped on the trunk of a fallen tree, which being rotten, had yielded to his weight, leaving the mark of a foot. While examining it, we heard a noise in the canes. In an instant our rifles were all directed to the spot; but it was only my horse sticking his head out of the canes, and neighing at sight of us. My uncle now settled that, as he was best acquainted with the cunning and tricks of the Indians, he would seek the horses alone, and nothing we urged could dissuade him from his purpose. He took my father’s bridle, and my horse, and was soon mounted, slowly and cautiously following up the trail. Losing sight of him, we went back to the camp to look after our breakfast, which we had forgotten in the first excitement. We remained constantly listening for the sound of the bell, when we heard a shot, and directly afterwards three more in quick succession. We were up in an instant, started towards the sound, and soon heard the gallop of a horse, and saw my uncle advancing at full speed. When he reached us he pulled up short, so that the horse reared. His eyes were glazed; – he was very pale, reeled in his saddle, and fell into my arms, which I extended to receive him. It was well for us that the Indians had not followed him, or we should have fallen an easy prey. My uncle recovered after a short time, and told us, with failing voice, that as he was following up the trail, he distinctly heard the bell again at a little distance, and riding cautiously forward, rather distrustful of the deep silence, he saw my father’s horse standing by a fallen tree. He rode up to him, keeping a sharp look-out all round; and just as he leaned over to take hold of the bell-strap which was round his neck, an Indian appeared not fifteen paces off, took aim, and fired; feeling himself hit, he let go the horse, brought forward his rifle, and fired, when more dark figures appeared right and left. He turned his horse, and gave him the spurs. He sank fainting to the ground, and the dark blood flowed out as we opened his clothes. He was hit in three places, and two of the wounds were mortal. After a few minutes he raised himself again, gave us each a hand, which we pressed in silence, drew a deep breath, and fell back a corpse. We buried him on the spot, and vowed a deep revenge, which we faithfully consummated: a few nights afterwards, the wolves were tearing the flesh from three corpses over the fresh grave.”
Having finished his tale, my host sat for some time with his head leaning on his hand, thinking of times long past. His wife had fallen asleep: she had probably, heard the tale many times before, and as it was rather late, we were all glad to retire.
The dogs barked several times during the night, and about an hour and a half before daylight, they were quite furious; supposing their excitement to be caused by raccoons, or opossums, we started up, and took our guns, called the dogs, and went into the piercing cold morning air, though it was too dark to see one’s hand; my thin deer-skin moccasins were soon frozen, which by no means added to my agreeable sensations. The bark of the dogs soon showed that they had chased something to a tree. As our feet were dreadfully cold, and it was still too dark to shoot, we lighted a fire, and though the dogs enjoyed its warmth, they never forgot the object of our being there, keeping their eyes fixed on the tree, and giving, from time to time, a short impatient howl. At length a gleam appeared in the east; gradually the forms of the nearest objects became visible; as the light increased, we could make out, on one of the upper branches of a tree, a dark spot, which afterwards was distinctly seen to be a raccoon. S – raised his rifle slowly, and took aim; the dogs jumped up, and looked to and fro from the muzzle of the gun to the dark spot on the tree, giving a slight whine – the piece became steady – a flash – a sharp report – and the creature fell dead from the top of the tree. The dogs seized it instantly, and it cost some trouble to rescue it from their fangs, before the skin was quite spoiled.
We returned to the house, and rested again till breakfast. After breakfast I went out to shoot turkeys, which were very numerous; but when I descended to the lower valley of the river, I found such an abundance of winter grapes, that I thought no more of my shooting, but gathering a good quantity, I lay down under a tree to enjoy them. After lying there about a couple of hours, I was roused by hearing the turkeys calling; so, hiding myself behind a fallen tree, I used my decoy pipe, and ten or a dozen stout fellows came strutting along. When they arrived within about twenty paces I gave a whistle, which brought them to a stand, and I shot the largest through the head. Satisfied with my prize, I returned to the house, and found that the grapes had quite spoiled my dinner.
As the weather turned out fine and warm in the afternoon, we determined to hunt in the wood for a swarm of wild bees, which we had sought for in vain about six months before. We took some bait with us, and went to a spot about half a mile off.
To induce bees to take bait in the fall of the year, the hunter looks out for a small open space in their neighborhood, and if he cannot find one he must make a clearance with his knife and tomahawk, stick a branch upright in the ground, and lay some leaves on it spread with a little thinned honey. The bees soon discover it, and when they have got as much of the honey as they can carry, they rise in circles, which become larger and larger, till they attain a certain height; then they dash off direct for their own tree, to deposit their store in the general warehouse. The bee-hunter must take particular notice of the line of their flight, which requires a good eye, and then carry his bait some two hundred yards further in that direction, when the bees will soon flock round it again. If, when loaded, they keep the same course, it is a sign that the tree is still in that direction, and the bait must be carried further, until they fly the other way. Then the bee-hunter will know that he has passed the tree, and that it must be between his present and his last station, and he is not long in finding it. When he comes near the tree, and the bees are at work, their unsteady zigzag flight will betray its proximity.
The first time we moved our bait, the bees flew backward, so we knew we could not be more than a hundred yards from their tree; but the approaching night prevented our discovering it. Next morning about ten o’clock, as it began to get warm, we returned to our hunt, and in less than half an hour, found the hole where the little laborers were passing in and out. It was in a nearly decayed, not very large post-oak, a tree that prefers moist soils, though it also grows on hills. It bears small and rather sweet acorns; its wood is very durable, and will remain long in the ground without rotting. I rode hastily back to the house, for we had taken a horse with us for the chase, and returned with a pail, an axe, a knife, and a spoon. The tree soon fell under our blows – smoke was made – the bees stupefied – an opening cut – and a most beautiful sight for a bee-hunter presented itself, in a number of well-filled cells. We filled the pail with the best, ate as much as our stomachs would bear, set the tree on fire, that the bees might not lead us astray in our next hunt, and returned to the house.
As there were several things to be done about the house, we remained at home, cut down firewood, and carried it to the house, ground flour in Slowtrap’s excellent steel mill, and when the evening shadows began to lengthen fast, we sat by the fire, and the old fellow, rendered good-humored by the successful bee-hunt, began again with his stories. In the course of the day, we had seen a man pass by with a smooth-bored gun, and as such a thing was a rarity in the backwoods, the conversation turned on this circumstance. He said: “I once had a smooth-bored gun, called a musket, and not far from the house where we then lived was a small lake, generally covered with wild fowl. One morning I took the old thumper, for it kicked tremendously, and lounged towards the lake to have a shot. I had not gone far along the bank, when I saw through a gap a number of ducks, swimming quietly on the other side of a thick bush; a fallen tree stretching out into the lake, seemed to offer a good bridge to approach them by. When I got to the end of it, and was about sixty yards from the birds, I raised the heavy old musket to take aim, but knowing how old kill-devil kicked, I leant as far forward as possible, with the firm conviction that the recoil would drive me back on the tree. Three ducks were swimming in a line, and thinking this a good chance, I pulled the trigger, leaning if possible still further forward in the act; but it only snapped, the expected recoil failed, and I fell head over heels into the lake. I had some trouble in getting back again to the shore, and never saw ducks or musket again.”
The sky seemed to promise a continuance of fine weather, and as there was no prospect at present of Slowtrap’s visit to the mountains, I resolved to take a little shooting excursion alone. The shooting on the north of the river was not so good as on the south, as there were fewer settlements; so I determined to cross over, and try my luck. A young man of the name of Curly lived close to the south bank; he was certainly strongly suspected of horse-stealing, but in other respects was a good fellow, and a capital sportsman; his little weakness respecting horse-flesh was a matter of indifference to me – he could not steal any of mine: so I went to the river and hailed, when he soon brought his canoe and carried me across.
He was easily persuaded to accompany me for a few days, first requesting time to prepare some provisions. He lived in a small block-house close to the river, surrounded by trees, and without an inch of cultivated land; he subsisted mostly by shooting. He had only lately arrived; his mother, wife, and sister lived in the house with him. As he had no flour in store, it was necessary to grind some, but his mill was more like a mortar than any thing else. Such mills are frequent in Arkansas. A sound tree is cut off about three feet from the ground, and hollowed by fire, knife, and chisel till it will hold about as much as a pail; it is made as smooth as possible, and a logger-head, or pestle of hard wood, is suspended to a balanced pole, such as is frequently fitted to wells. It may be imagined that pounding corn in this way is hard work, and as only a small quantity at a time can be prepared, it has to be done before every meal; but this is the only resource of all those who are too poor to buy a steel mill. At last Curly had as much as would serve for two days, in case we shot nothing. He rolled up in his blanket all the things he meant to take, hung his tin pot and tomahawk to his belt, and off we set into the glorious freedom of the forest.
We might have gone about three miles, when we came on the trail of several deer, though we had seen nothing of the precious creatures themselves; and as it began to grow dark, and we found ourselves near a bubbling spring, and a black hawberry bush looked very attractive, we resolved to camp there, and to begin our sport as early as possible in the morning. We cast off our blankets, laid down our rifles, and collected wood for a fire, the night promising to be rather cold. We soon had a fire of which a volcano need not have been ashamed, and lay down to repose. Our supper consisted of dried venison, slices of bacon, maize bread, and coffee – a princely repast for the forest, but we hoped to have fresh meat on the morrow.
We breakfasted with the first gleam of light, fed the dogs, and related stories till it was light enough to see the sights on the muzzles of the rifles; then taking our preconcerted directions, we trod lightly and cautiously over the dried leaves. A little before sunrise I heard the crack of Curly’s rifle; a few minutes later a second report, then a third. I stood still for about a quarter of an hour, in case a frightened deer should bound past. Nothing moved; I continued my march. I had not gone far when I saw a majestic buck at a walk. I crept lightly to a right angle with his course; when about eighty yards off, I gave a hail: he stopped, and my ball pierced his shoulder; after a few bounds, he lay struggling in the yellow leaves. Bearsgrease rushed after him, but finding him already dead, he only licked the wound, and lay quietly beside him, waiting for his share of the prize. I took the skin and the two legs, hanging the latter on a tree with the skin over them, cut a few bits of the rest for Bearsgrease, leaving the remainder for the wolves and vultures, and continued my march. Soon after I heard a shot, about a hundred yards off on the other side of a thick jungle, and proceeded towards the sound. It turned out to be Curly, who had killed a turkey; he was lying under a tree, and told me, with a mournful visage, that, having wounded a buck, he was following him over some loose stones, when he sprained his ankle, and could hardly move, being obliged to leave the wounded deer to its fate.
As we had traversed the country in a circle, we were not far from our last night’s camp. I helped him to it as well as I could, and both being hungry, we roasted the turkey. But Curly had lost all heart for shooting, and, with the help of a big stick, limped slowly homewards, where he could lay up his leg to nurse. I could not tear myself away so soon, and continued my sport alone.
As the sky grew cloudy and threatening, I made a tent of my blanket, and collected wood enough to defy any quantity of rain that might fall. When all this was arranged, I went to the tree where I had left my venison and skin, and to give Bearsgrease another feed from the carcase. But I was too late; the vultures had left nothing but the bones, and had torn the skin on the tree, which, however, I was in time to rescue, and hanging it over my shoulders, with the legs safe in my arms, I returned to my camp. Having made a good fire, and roasted a slice of meat, the coffee being all gone, and the bread reduced to one small piece, I fed my dog, and lay down to repose. About midnight I was awakened by a formidable thunderstorm. Bearsgrease began to howl dreadfully, and close behind me an oak burst into flames. Flash followed flash, while the thunder was incessant; the whole forest seemed to swim in a lake of fiery brimstone, the rain poured in torrents, and the little stream swelled to a foaming river. When the storm ceased, silence and darkness took its place, only disturbed by the rustling of the rain falling perpendicularly on the leaves. My blanket protected me well; I was perfectly dry, and soon fast asleep again. Towards morning it cleared up, and the weather was the most glorious for shooting that could possibly be imagined. I was on foot by daybreak, and by ten o’clock I had three deer hanging to the trees. My last night’s repose having been broken by the storm, and yesterday’s and to-day’s exertions having fatigued me very much, I threw myself under a tree, and enjoyed a delightful nap. The sun was near the horizon when I awoke, and there was hardly time for me to return to camp and collect wood before dark, for the night threatened to be very cold; but it was bright starlight, and my blanket was dry, – so I rolled myself comfortably in its folds.
I lay awake till past midnight, giving the reins to my imagination; and when I fell asleep I dreamed of stretched deerskins, and that Bearsgrease was chasing an immense buck, when his loud barking and howling awoke me. I patted him to keep him quiet, and found his hair all bristling up. I thought wolves must be near us; and listening attentively, I heard the cautious tread of some heavy beast over the dry frosty leaves.
I laid some dry fir branches, which were near me, on the fire, to make it burn up bright, and placed myself between it and the noise of the footsteps, in order to distinguish the eyes of my untimely visitor, and shoot him. Three times I caught sight of two glowing balls, and from their rapid disappearance I was convinced that I had to do with a panther. He went round and round the fire several times, but never close enough for me to distinguish his form; – and I passed half an hour with my rifle at my cheek, in the greatest anxiety, the dog pressing close to my side, with all his nerves on the stretch, following the tread of the panther, and giving a fearful howl every time he passed across the wind.
The brute, not possessing courage enough to attack, at length withdrew; but I remained a good quarter of an hour longer on the watch, till the dog, persuaded that all was safe, had lain down again, when I followed his example, wrapped myself in my blanket, and was soon fast asleep.
The morning was bitterly cold; and as I had nothing on my feet but a pair of thin deer-skin moccasins, not even stockings, I thought of a plan I had learned from an old sportsman, and bathed my feet in the icy cold water of the stream, dried them well, and put on my moccasins. My feet were soon in a glow, and remained warm all the morning.
I started at daylight, and followed the course of the stream downwards; but the bushes grew thicker and thicker, and I was about returning to cross the hill to another brook, when I caught sight of a noble stag in the thicket on my right. I crept quickly and silently round the bush to cut him off, when suddenly I heard a most heart-rending cry from a deer. My first impulse was to rush towards the sound, and on the first movement I made for this purpose, Bearsgrease bounded forwards; but I thought better of it, and a sharp whistle stopped the dog in his career. A second fainter whistle brought him to my side; then, hiding behind a tree, I reflected on what was best to be done.
The shriek certainly came from a deer, and nothing but a panther could have caused it; for if it had been a wolf, all would not have been silent again so soon, as a wolf could not have overpowered a deer so quickly.
Now, I had often heard from Americans how the panther darts on his prey, kills it in an instant, and, after eating his fill, buries or covers up the rest for a future meal. I resolved to try and make sure of the panther, and, if possible, to creep up to him unperceived. I did not then know how difficult it was to outwit a panther; but this time fortune favored me.
After waiting about half an hour, I thought I might make the attempt, and crept lightly and cautiously towards the thicket; the dog, well knowing my object, crept as silently after me. Just as I gained the edge of the thicket, and was looking out for the best place to enter it with the least noise, I heard a light rustling. My heart began to beat violently; the bush opened, and my eyes encountered the fierce orbs of the panther. Doubtless, in the first moment of surprise he did not know exactly what to do; but his surprise did not last long: a panther has a bad conscience, and justly supposes a foe in every living being not belonging to his own race; and, crouching down about twenty paces from me in the yellow grass, he was preparing either to make a spring, or to hide himself – I could not tell which. But I was not idle; during the time he stooped, my arm had recovered its steadiness, the rifle cracked, the animal made one spring upwards, and fell dead to the earth. Bearsgrease seized him on the instant, and seemed to take exquisite pleasure in shaking the skin of his deadliest foe; and he cast many a longing look behind, when, at my command, he followed up the panther’s trail. We soon came to the place where he had killed the buck, and covered it with leaves; the skin had been so mauled that it was useless, but I stripped off the panther’s, and set out on my return to my camp, deciding to go back to old Slowtrap’s, and to commence my march to the Ozark mountains as soon as possible.
On arriving at the camp I tied up the skin with strips of bark, and although I took very little of the venison with me, I had a heavy load. I reached Curly’s in the evening. As it was nearly dark, I had no fancy for crossing the river at night, and creeping for half an hour through a cane-brake, with the chance of getting my eyes poked out; so I remained with Curly. The house was small, but it contained two large bedsteads, one table, three chairs, two plates, and one cup; a hole in the wall did duty for the absent window.
We passed a very pleasant evening. Curly sang well, and gave us a number of Irish comic songs, till, tired with laughing and the severe exertions of the day, I rolled myself in my blanket, and laid myself by the fire. I was up at daybreak, and the river being low, waded through, hastened to Slowtrap’s, and spread out my skin. Slowtrap was out shooting wild fowl, which had collected in such numbers on a little river running into the Fourche le Fave, that I never saw any thing like it; they positively covered the water, and a good double-barrelled gun might have done immense havoc, particularly as the steep banks favored the approach to within thirty yards of the ducks.